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The best part of Saturday's streetfair on Broadway between 9th and 14th Streets: There was this handsome, muscled young guy with purposefully messy dirty blonde hair, wearing a short-sleeved white shirt, plaid tie, and burgundy leather vest, holding his hands clasped in front of his chest, flexing his biceps, saying in a thick Irish accent to no one in particular, "Blessings be upon you. Blessings in the name of Yeshua. Blessings. Blessings be upon you. Blessings in the name of Yeshua...."

If I were going to be in town for longer, I would have tried to talk to him. Or I would have liked to. Muscled crazy guys tend to scare me, and if they're Boondock Saint wannabes that's like exponentially scarier.

But Yeshua totally blessed me by proxy! Suck it, Buddha!